


Clouds Of Smoke

by scottmcniceass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No smoking weed on the bus,” Liam says. “That’s the rule. That’s one of the only rules.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds Of Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wafflehood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflehood/gifts).



> Because there is never enough gratuitous shotgunning fic tbh.
> 
> For the lovely Lea, because this is all her fault.

 

 

"What are you doing?" Liam demands.

He doesn't mean to get like that, all 'concerned parent'. He can't help it, though. There's rules, boundaries, and if Liam doesn't enforce them, no one will. Not that he isn't all for letting lose and having fun, but there are certain lines that shouldn't be crossed, and this is one of them.

"Just calm down, babe," Louis says, before bringing the partially rolled joint to his lips. He licks along the edge and seals the seam, while Niall giggles from his spot on Liam's right. "It's just an itty bitty joint, Liam."

"No smoking weed on the bus," Liam says. "That's the rule. That's one of the  _only_  rules."

Louis rolls his eyes and starts rolling another joint, while Niall takes the first one in his hands, twisting the end a bit. Harry watches the whole thing in fascination, as Louis' fingers gently pinched the busted up bud and carefully sprinkle it into another rolling paper. Liam chews the inside of his lip, frowning heavily.

Beside him, Zayn looks up from his phone, lips twitching up into a half-smile. "Maybe if you smoked a bit, you'd stop being so paranoid about it."

Liam's frown turns into a glare. "It's illegal," he says flatly. "You get that, right? Drugs—"

"Drugs are  _bad_ ," Louis sighs. "Yes, Liam, we all remember that particular week of health class. But it's not  _heroin_. It's  _weed_."

"'s organic," Harry pipes up. "'s good for you."

Liam gives him a look that hopefully conveys just how strongly Liam doubts that. Not that he has a problem with them smoking a joint or two here or there. Zayn does it quite frequently, actually, and it makes him looser, more relaxed. It's just — they're on the  _bus_ , and it  _smells_ , and what if the driver realizes what they're doing? What if they get caught? It's just a bad, bad idea.

Which is why Liam has no idea how, five minutes later, he finds himself sitting with one leg tucked under him on the couch, with Niall in front of him, joint pressed between his fingers. On the floor, Louis and Harry sit with their legs crossed, passing one of the joints between themselves as thick, heady smoke fills the air. It smells strongly, so strongly that it makes Liam wrinkle his nose, but none of the others seem to mind.

"You know," Harry says slowly, and Liam can't tell if that's a side affect from the drug, or if he's just being Harry, "shotgunning might work better than just handing him a joint and letting him have a go at it."

Liam wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. "Shotgunning?"

Zayn snorts as he leans down to pluck the joint from Louis' fingers. "You don't know what shotgunning is?" he asks, words a little tight as he holds in the smoke a bit, just a few wafts of it escaping his mouth with the words.

"This is  _Liam_ we're talking about," Louis points out.

"Yeah," Zayn admits, heavily lidded eyes trapping Liam's gaze for a moment before Zayn finally turns away, "but I think Liam's less innocent than you all give him credit for."

Which is true, Liam thinks. But he really is sort of lost, admittedly. "D'you think you could show me first?" Liam asks.

The smoke is filling the air, by this point, casting a fog on everything. Zayn licks at his lips, and Liam's eyes follow the movement. When he lifts his gaze, Zayn's watching him, too. "A demonstration," Zayn says with a nod. "Lou, c'mere."

Louis obliges, sitting up so he's on his knees. Zayn reaches for him, hand curling around the back of Louis' neck. He takes a hit off the joint, holds in the smoke, and moves in. The thick smoke drifts between their open mouths, their lips almost touching as Louis breathes in and Zayn exhales. Louis' eyes are closed, and Liam can see Zayn's fingers pressing gently against the back of his neck, holding him still.

Liam shifts a bit, pants suddenly too tight, and the two of them break apart, Louis smirking, Zayn taking another puff off the joint. Something like jealousy twitches inside him, and Liam's mouth is so dry, all of a sudden. His voice is a little strangled when he says, "I want that." His cheeks burn. "I mean, I'd like to try that, I think."

Harry laughs at him, and Liam's sure his face goes even redder. Niall taps a finger on his leg, though, so Liam turns to him. "Don't move, then," Niall says, and Liam doesn't understand until Niall takes a hall off the joint and leans in.

Liam stays completely still, eyes wide as Niall moves closer to him. And then Niall's laughing, right in his face, a cloud of smoke suddenly burning Liam's eyes, clogging his nose. He pulls back, coughing, and Niall just keeps laughing.

"Sorry," he gasps out. "Your  _face_ , though, Liam. 'm sorry, you just looked so serious."

Liam glares at him for it, while Louis and Harry snicker. "I'm not doing this," Liam decides. "I told you all it was a bad idea. I'm not—"

"Zayn," Louis says, with a short little wave in Liam's direction.

Liam turns just in time to watch the exchange between the two of them. Louis raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, and Zayn nods slowly, reaching for the joint again before he turns so he's facing Liam. "I'm not going to laugh in your face," Zayn promises, with a slight glare in Niall's direction. It's really no surprise that all Niall does in response is laugh.

"What do I do, though?" Liam asks. "Do I just—?"

"Just trust me," Zayn says, and Liam doesn't think that's much of an instruction, but he nods anyways.

Zayn's freehand comes up, cupping Liam's cheek instead of the back of his neck, like he had with Louis. His thumb slides over Liam's stubble, first, before pressing gently on Liam's bottom lip. Liam opens his mouth, just a bit, and Zayn smiles at him, like he's doing what he's supposed to.

When Zayn leans in, his eyes fill Liam's vision for a moment. Sometimes they're a dark, rich brown. In some light they look hazel. Right now they look like melted caramel, framed by heavy, thick lashes that sweep low the closer he gets, until Zayn's eyes are completely shut. Liam shuts his own, too, because he thinks that's what he's supposed to do.

Zayn's lips press against his own, and then that thick smoke is filling Liam's mouth with a bitter yet sweet taste. He inhales quickly, and he feels it the whole way down, a slight burning in his throat. It's not unbearable, though, and it's not as bad as he thought it would be. Or maybe he's too distracted by Zayn's fingers clamped tightly around his jaw and his thumb tracing soothing patterns on Liam's cheek.

When Zayn pulls back, Liam blows out a feeble cloud of smoke and then sucks in a breath, trying to fill his lungs with fresh air again.

"Not bad, right?" Harry asks, foot nudging against Liam's ankle.

"Can we do that again?" Liam hesitantly asks.

Louis smirks. "Who would've thought that it'd be this easy to corrupt him."

Zayn looks like he had.

"Do you want to try it on your own?" Zayn asks, holding the joint out to him.

Liam shakes his head a little faster than he probably should have, because Zayn's eyes crinkle at the sides in amusement. "Not yet," Liam says. "Let's just — do that again, just until I get the hang of it."

"Sure." Zayn shrugs, takes a hall, and leans in again.

Liam meets him halfway this time, hand gripping Zayn's arm to hold himself steady. Zayn's mouth lingers against his own, even as Liam blows the smoke back out. "Again?" Liam prompts.

Zayn shakes his head, passing the joint back to Louis. Liam feels disappointment settle heavily in his stomach. "Don't want to over do it," Zayn explains. "You'll be feeling it in minute. Just give it a bit."

Liam doesn't feel anything, though, except a harsh wave of longing when he looks at Zayn's lips, because that wasn't exactly fair, what just happened. They were so, so close to his own, but he still doesn't know, for sure, if they're as soft as they look, or if they're a little chapped, the way you'd expect them to be, what with Zayn constantly licking at them like they're too dry. He wants them pressed against his own again, with no pretences this time.

But it's not like he can voice that, because things would get awkward. So he settles back against the couch and sighs as the others finish off the rest of the two joints.

He's not exactly sure what he's waiting for. Maybe it's like when you're drunk, Liam considers, and you don't really notice how plastered you are until you try to stand up and you can't. So that's what he does, hand on Zayn's thigh as he pushes himself up.

There's a bit of a headrush, maybe, but he doesn't feel off balanced, and nothing's going out of focus.

"Do you think penguins are, like, upset that they can't fly even though they're birds, and other birds can fly?" Harry asks. He's sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch now, arms tucked under his head, feet in Louis' lap. "Or, like, do you think other birds are jealous of penguins, because they have to, like, fly south or whatever when it gets cold, but penguins are just like, hey, it's cool, we don't mind the snow?"

"This is why we don't smoke with you," Louis says. "You're an idiot."

"Maybe penguins aren't really birds," Niall puts in. "Like dolphins aren't fish."

They all look at him for that, and Liam snorts a laugh before he can help himself. And it — it feels nice, the laugh, so he does it again, more because he likes the sound of it than because something's actually funny.

"Looks like Liam's feeling it," Louis chuckles.

"Feeling what?" Liam asks, eyes wide. He swallows, and his tongue feels heavy, like it's too big for his mouth. For some reason that doesn't alarm him at all. It makes him want to laugh.

Zayn reaches for him, hand extended. "Come sit back down," he says.

Liam grabs the hand and lets Zayn pull him back onto the couch, closer than he had been before. He's pressed against Zayn's side now, and he feels so warm, all of a sudden, in a pleasant way, like sitting outside in the summer. Without thinking, he reaches for the strings of Zayn's sweater, tying them into a loose, loopy knot.

"Enjoying yourself?" Zayn asks. He sounds amused, and he looks it, too, when Liam raises his gaze. Zayn lifts his hand and gently cards it through Liam's hair. "How's that feel?"

Good, Liam thinks. Really, really good. He closes his eyes and ducks his head, wanting more. "Keep doing that," he urges.

Zayn chuckles and does as he's told, but he drops his other hand to Liam's thigh. Even through the thick material of his jeans, Liam can feel the warmth as his hand slides down to Liam's knee, first, and then back up, a little higher, until his fingertips are at Liam's hip, and then he goes back down. It's a lot, all of a sudden. It's like the only parts of himself that Liam can feel are the ones that Zayn's touching, and it feels as if Zayn's leaving a tingling in the wake of each of his fingertips.

"Lay down," Zayn says abruptly.

Liam's eyes open, and he looks behind himself. Niall had been there, just seconds ago, but now he's on the floor beside Harry, hand buried deeply in a bag of Cheetos. Liam obeys, laying so his back is flat against the couch, one leg on the floor, one bent at the knee, foot tucked just underneath Zayn. Until Zayn stands up, pushing it down and lifting the other one up so Liam's completely sprawled out on the couch.

Zayn climbs on top of him, straddling Liam's waist, and Liam figures his eyes bug out of their sockets, and he  _knows_  that his breathing gets heavier.

"Close your eyes again," Zayn orders.

Liam does. Zayn's hands slide into his hair, first, nails dragging against his scalp. He moves them lower, cupping both sides of Liam's face. Fingertips trace his eyebrows, his nose; he twitches when they get too close to his eyes, lashes fluttering, and Zayn moves on to his jaw, and then his lips. His hands trail down to Liam's neck, light little touches that have goosebumps breaking out over his skin. And then lower, over his t-shirt, all the way to the spot where his shirt and jeans meet.

Zayn's hands push under his shirt, and Liam's stomach clenches automatically. "Don't move," Zayn says softly, so Liam keeps his eyes squeezes closed.

Zayn's hands are warm and softer than he'd thought, not calloused like he'd expect. They glide over his skin, moving all the way up to his shoulders before they brush back down. Nails scratch against his abs, and Zayn makes a soft sound before pushing his hands back up, brushing over Liam's nipples.

Liam doesn't mean to moan, but he does. And he wants to open his eyes, wants to see the look on Zayn's face, but he doesn't want Zayn to stop.

He does anyways. Those hands are suddenly gone, moving Liam's shirt down so it covers his stomach again. When Liam opens his eyes, Zayn is hovering just above him, one hand braced on the back of the couch. His eyes are a little red now, and they're kind of squinty, like his eyelids are too heavy to hold all the way open.

"Let's hotbox the bathroom," Louis say loudly.

Liam's eyebrows draw together. He feels a little on the outside with this whole thing, like they all know what they're doing except Liam. "Hotbox?"

"We're good here," Zayn says to Louis, instead of answering Liam's question.

"Sure looks that way, doesn't it," Louis teases, and Liam finds himself blushing again. "Whatever. Harry, Niall?"

"Can I bring my Cheetos?" Niall asks.

Louis rolls his eyes but nods, and Liam tilts his head to watch him pull another joint from where it was tucked behind his ear as the three of them head for the bathroom. "What're they doing?" he asks.

"If you smoke in a confined space," Zayn says, hands brushing up and down Liam's arms, "the smoke can't get out, so it fucks you up even more."

That doesn't sound pleasant, Liam thinks. "Oh."

"Why?" Zayn wonders. "Did you want to—?"

"No, no," Liam says quickly. "I'm good. I'm good right here."

"Yeah." Zayn nods slowly, like he is, too. "Sit up a bit."

Liam does, with difficulty. He puts a hand on the small of Zayn's back so he doesn't fall off, and their faces are almost level with each other, Liam's only a little lower. Zayn's hand, the one not gripped around the back of the couch, tries to tangle in the short hairs at the back of Liam's neck. When he can't find something to grab onto, he makes a frustrated sound and curls his fingers against Liam's skin, grip almost painful but not quite.

"Gonna kiss you now," Zayn warns.

Liam's heart thuds in his chest, but he nods quickly because, yeah, he wants that. And Zayn grins, blindly sweet just before he leans in.

There's more purpose with the brush of their lips this time. Without the smoking drifting between them, without a different goal in mind, Liam can perfectly feel Zayn's lips against his own. They are slightly chapped, but in a good way. The fingers on his neck tighten even more, and Liam gasps softly, lips parting just enough for Zayn's tongue to push hesitantly into his mouth. Liam allows it, his own meeting it halfway.

Zayn has that same bittersweet taste of smoke in his mouth, but Liam finds himself liking the taste of it a lot better on Zayn's tongue than he had when he was smoking it. His fingers splay against Zayn's back, trying to pull him closer, and he can hear Zayn's breathing getting unsteady and laboured, and he almost smiles into the kiss because that's  _him._ He's doing that to Zayn, and he likes it.

Eventually Zayn pushes him back down, tongue curling against Liam's, hands falling onto Liam's shoulders when they crash against the couch cushions. Zayn's hips slide forward, too, just a little, and— oh. Friction. That feels good. That feels so fucking good that Liam groans into Zayn's mouth, hands reaching up to tug at his hair.

There's a slow, lazy simmer to the kiss, almost like the feeling coursing through Liam's veins from the weed. There's nothing rushed or fumbled about it. It's just — easy, the way their mouths fit together, the way Zayn's body rests perfectly on top of his own, like two pieces that are meant to be conjoined like this. That were made to be slotted together just the way they are right now.

Zayn's lips slide from his own without warning, his teeth graving over Liam's jaw before he pulls back and licks at his slick lips. Liam does the same, and his own are a little sticky and slick from the kiss, and he tastes Zayn there, which is enough to have his hands squeezing at Zayn's hips, where they'd fallen when he'd pulled back.

"So?" Zayn asks. "'s not so bad, is it? The whole smoking weed thing."

Liam smiles, soft and warm. "I think that maybe we could retract the 'no smoking on the bus' rule, once in a while," he says.

 


End file.
